November 9, 2011

I drove because I liked this song.

I turned the pumpkins around on my porch. Old jack-o-lanterns with their backs to the street, their shriveled faces hidden. They'll sit there until garbage pick up next week.

I drove because I liked this song and I played it again and again. We chased a parade of leaves down the street and they ran ahead and turned into a flashmob, swirling and pointy fists pumping into a cyclone until they dispersed casually to the sidewalks and under cars.

I drove and the dirty white clouds reminded me of fall birthday parties and sleeping bags and how I never did fit in and how good it was to go home.

I drove, and felt a delicate thread through my heart separating me from extreme sadness and absolute happiness. And I wavered there, and then the song that was on gave in to what could have been. Dreams I have, people I want to be, lives that I'm certain I've already lived (but I haven't), so real they even have their own memories, and longings.

And I could actually grieve what never was.

I glance in my rearview mirror at her in her pink car seat, she's fallen asleep, with peace on her face. The sight of her still a shock and surprise, at her dark feather-lashes squeezed tight and God's breath -not mine- passes through me and I understand.

16 comments:

  1. Stop it! You're makin' me cry.

    Wow. I so connect with all of this. The driving, the song ... The sleeping bags and the not fitting in and the good to go home and the shock of him in the car seat behind me. And the understanding. I get it ALL.

    Amazing.

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  2. The last line of this post will be in my mind for a long, long time. Beautiful.

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  3. The thread between extreme sadness and absolute happiness stung much sharper than I expected, and now here I sit, crying at my desk.

    This is beautiful, Steph. Super poignant for me right now.

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  4. Oh Steph - what a fantastic talent you have. I am in awe.

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  5. Pure loveliness.....

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  6. whew. that was beautiful. i love how it ended with you looking back at her in the carseat....such a simple, redemptive moment i have experienced myself too.

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  7. i really want to see a live flashmob. not wait, even better, i want to be in one!

    this is good. really good. i could tell it was your heart writing.

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  8. i just love your writing. and i can totally relate to the driving and driving because you love the song that's playing. :)

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  9. I wonder if every one secretly feels that they don't fit in. You always seem to be so confident and seamlessly fitting in everywhere. So fierce!

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  10. The lives you're sure you've lived but haven't - oh. And here I thought I was the only one.

    And then seeing the gifts given us in this life we are living. Such poignant beauty, right here.

    Thank you, friend.

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  11. Thank you so much for sharing this. I feel as though I living delicate thread between extreeme sadness and absolute hapiness, some time paralized to move for fear of ending up on the wrong side. Thank you.

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  12. Beautiful! When my son was younger, he would only take naps in the car. I have so many memories of songs and pulling off into a park and staring at him as he slept. I am so grateful for that.

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  13. This is the best post I've read in a long while.
    I can relate in so many ways ~ most of all with the last paragraph. Brings it all full-circle doesn't it? xo

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  14. "Dreams I have, people I want to be, lives that I'm certain I've already lived (but I haven't), so real they even have their own memories, and longings."

    Wrote it out, just now, longhand in my journal. I need to remember these words. Thank you for the gift of them today.

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  15. This post brought tears to my eyes this morning. I'm so glad you felt safe at home when you were growing up.

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